


A More Witchy Number

by rhodrymavelyne



Series: Sisterhood of the Witchblade [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Witchblade (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 18:16:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15954854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhodrymavelyne/pseuds/rhodrymavelyne
Summary: Sara Pezzini is part of a warrior bloodline, destined to wield the Witchblade. She is not alone.Kate Lockley thought she was alone, locked in a battle against a world gone insane. Only another shares her blood, her heart, and her battlefield. A long lost sister she sees in dreams and visions, which she is beginning to share. For Kate Lockley is also a blood heir to the Witchblade, capable of drawing on its power.





	A More Witchy Number

**Author's Note:**

> This is based all on the Witchblade TV show and Yancy Butler's depiction of Sara Pezzini. I was struck by the similarity between Sara and Kate Lockley on Angel from their eyes, their postures, to the similar lives they'd chosen. What if Sara wasn't only baby Lazar spirited away to a surrogate cop father? What if there had been three sisters...Sara, Karen, and Kate? 
> 
> I listed Sara Pezzini/Kate Lockely as a pairing, although it's more of a sismance than a f/f pairing. I plan on there being f/f, though, along with m/m eventually. The dominant relationship of this ongoing story is between Sara and Kate. I figured I should list it, even it's more emotional than romantic. 
> 
> I don't own either Witchblade or Angel. I'm playing fast and hard with the canon by conceiving this. Sisterhood of the Witchblade is an idea which has been growing and crying out within my imagination for years, using the premise of what Dominique Bouchier told Sara, "The Witchblade weaves a web. Everything in your life is connected now." That's the central theme in not just this story, but almost all of my Witchblade fanfics. :)
> 
> I'm finally releasing Sisterhood of the Witchblade...I hope you enjoy it. :)

Sara approached the mirror to study herself, the Witchblade pulsing on her wrist. 

Blond hair spilled over her shoulders rather than brunette. Her gray blue eyes had darkened, turning into something something soft, brown, and haunted, like a deer facing a hunter’s gun. Or a puppy who’d been kicked too many times. 

“Maria.” Sara reached for the bracelet clamped around her wrist. Its jewel glittered, blazing with images of Maria and herself as children, a little blonde girl crying, only to be bounced on a woman’s lap.

“Don’t cry,” she murmured against the child’s hair. “Your father will come home for you soon. How could he not return to someone as gentle and sweet as you? If he doesn’t, I may keep you.”

Sara bit her lower lip. A bead of blood appeared on Maria’s at the same time.

Had either of them ever known such maternal affection?

“All we had was each other.” Maria smiled with a melancholy affection, reaching up to fiddle with her own hairline. “Why did we turn out so different, Sara?”

“Choices.” She didn’t want berate Maria over the ones she’d made. Sara had already wasted enough time doing so. “I chose to follow in my dad’s footsteps. I became a cop.”

“While I rebelled against mine.” Maria’s smile crumpled into something dreamy and pensive. “I literally screwed lawyers and judges like him.”

“He was always trying to bail you out, you know.” Sara thought of Judge Pozzani’s weary face, aged before its time. 

He always studied Sara as if trying to figure out what James Pezzini had done for his child, how he’d saved her from the darkness Maria constantly courted. 

“Died young.” Maria answered the unspoken question, twisting her full lips into something bitter. “James Pezzini gave you a cherished memory to worship rather than a living example to disappoint you.”

“Are you blaming your father for your choices?” It was so much easier to snap at Maria than go somewhere soft and vulnerable with her former friend. “Or me?”  
Maria was far too adept at soft and vulnerable. She’d learned to turn these qualities into weapons. 

Not that they’d protected her in the end. 

“I’m making excuses.” Maria allowed her mouth to relax into its usual inviting fullness. “I always knew you were special, Sara. Stronger, smarter, different from me.” She looked Sara straight in the eye. “Perhaps that’s why Ken was so fascinated with you.”

“Ken…Kenneth Irons?” Alarm bells rang in Sara’s head. “Was he one of your customers? He talked to you about me?”

“Yes, a regular with a quite of few kinks involving wrists.” The corner of Maria’s mouth quirked up. “Ken had a sly way of bringing you up, turning an intimate conversation about me into one about you.”

“Even before I got the Witchblade, he was spying on me.” The degree of her enemy’s obsession had been terrifying, even if he was now in his grave. “Trying to find out my weaknesses from those around me.”

“Sara, I’m sorry.” Maria stretched a hand out toward her. “Here you are, separated from your real sisters at birth, and your surrogate sister didn’t turn out to be much of one.”

“Maria…” What could she say to that? Yes, Maria had made mistakes. 

She’d died because of them. 

It took a moment for the rest of what she’d said to sink in. “Sisters? What are you talking about?”

The Witchblade flashed, offering up an image of a young girl’s face. Her blue eyes met Sara’s. They widened with shock. She held in her hands in the photgraph of a Sara in another time with a little girl, wearing a hat. Only it wasn’t Sara. Was it?

A little girl cried, while a woman rocked her in her arms. She turned her tear streaked face toward Sara’s. 

Everything disappeared except for the face. The girl’s face aged, becoming a woman’s, who retained the full cheeks and enormous blue eyes of her youth. Her mouth was hard with determination, set in an expression Sara had seen in the mirror too many times. Clouds of fair hair escaped from the no nonsense ponytail it was pulled back in, as the strange woman stalked the shadows of an alley, wearing a jacket and jeans, gun ready in her hand. 

Sara recognized the posture. It was one she’d assumed many a time. 

The visions faded, leaving Sara staring at herself in the mirror. Maria looked back at her. 

“My sisters.” This news should have been a shock, only it wasn’t. “One of them is a cop.”

“Very much like you.” Maria nodded. “Karen Bronte you’ve met, only you erased your original meeting.” Maria glanced at the door. “You’ll be getting a love letter soon, Sara. Trust its contents if not the lover.”

“What?” The knocking on the door smashed through the dream. Sara became aware of the mattress beneath her, that she lying on top of it in her underwear, the Witchblade on her wrist. 

The knocking stopped. Not that it mattered. Sara was already awake. 

Growling a curse against idiots who wouldn’t let sleeping cops get a night of uninterrupted rest, she marched in the general direction of the kitchen. Sleep had abandoned her. 

This was when she noticed the letter lying on the floor. It must have been pushed under the door.

“Nottingham,” she growled. She walked over to where the envelope lay in opened it. Bold handwriting, yet with a delicate curl to the letters. Kenneth Irons had taught his son well.  
“My love,

So much of our last life we experienced as a dream. So much was done I must atone for, even if you succeeded in unwinding past tragedies only to play a part in new ones. 

I’m not here to blame you, Sara. You took a family member from me, but I did the same to you. 

You had such a brief taste of your heritage, only to have Karen Bronte taken away from you. 

She is in L.A. now. Knowing you, my love, you’ve already had visions of her. Caught a glimpse of her in your dreams or visions. Perhaps you’ve even heard her voice. 

Three is a much more witchy number than two, isn’t it, Sara? You’re the blood heir and wielder of the Witchblade, but there are others. 

This blood makes all three of you targets for those who covet what’s yours by right. Don’t disregard the blade's warnings.”

“You really dislike direct information, don’t you?” Sara considered crumbling the letter into a ball, but she didn’t. 

A sister. Another girl who was alone, a cop fighting a war by herself against the madness. 

No. Sara didn’t know if any of this was true. 

“Are you real?” Sara closed her eyes and touched the Witchblade on her wrist. 

Only to find herself moving. On the hunt. Tearing through the trash scattered in her way made the alley less easy to move in.

**Author's Note:**

> The vision of the little girl in the woman's lap is based off a scene Kate Lockley shared in the Angel episode, Sense and Sensitivity.


End file.
